


Summer Stock

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 06, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Summer Vacation, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 22:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: It’s the final day of the Gold family’s visit to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania with two-year-old Gideon, and Belle doesn’t want to leave the corn maze.





	Summer Stock

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Rumbelle Summer Vacation event on Tumblr. Also my 50th Rumbelle/Anyelle fic, so that's pretty exciting for me.
> 
> Thanks to MagnoliaTattoo for reading this over and to RowofStars for being awesome.

“Isn’t this fun?” Belle asked cheerfully, blowing a curly tendril of hair out of her eyes.

His wife beamed like the sun, and Rumplestiltskin smothered a frustrated sigh. She was glowing with excitement and a fine sheen of sweat as she led him through the five-acre corn maze at Cherry Crest Adventure Farm in Ronks, Pennsylvania, located deep in the heart of the Amish countryside.

“Fun,” he agreed with a curt nod, angling his way through the rows of corn. Belle was having such a good time he didn’t have the heart to disagree, but two-year-old Gideon was a sweaty weight on his back, their sturdy toddler growing heavier with each step in the backpack baby carrier. The two-hour mark had come and gone and his three-hundred-year-old back was whining in complaint. Why were they wandering through a damn field, anyway? Fields were for working, not gallivanting, but after making Belle wait so long to see the world, he was loathe to spoil even an ounce of her enjoyment. He glanced at his watch and trudged onward.

Beneath their feet, the hard-packed dirt was strewn with hay and corn husks and a dusty smell mingled in the humid air. They wove through the twisting rows of corn, pulling random stalks to the side in tight spots. Before long, they came to another fork in the long, arduous path.

“Which way?” Belle squinted in both directions, weighing the options. “I think left.”

“Then left we shall go.” He motioned for Belle to walk ahead of him.

They meandered in silence for a while, then ran into another dead end.  This time it was Rumple who made the choice. “Right?”

Belle tilted her head in his direction. “You’re not having fun, are you?”

He peered up at the sky, now strewn with pink and grey clouds as dusk approached. “Me? I’m having a wonderful time,” he lied. “But we’ve been walking in here for quite a while now. What do you say we use the map and steer ourselves to the finish line?” He met her eyes hopefully.

“And allow ourselves to be bested by a corn maze?” She crossed her arms over her chest with a playful glare. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Rumple?”

“I left it behind at the farmer’s market,” he replied, patting his trim stomach. He shot her a mock leer and framed her hips between his palms, digging his fingers into her flesh. “But I could reclaim it again in our room back at the bed and breakfast.”

Belle giggled and swatted at his wandering hands. Earlier today, they had examined every nook and cranny of the Bird-In-Hand country market, stuffing themselves with Amish-made delights and sipping freshly squeezed lemonade. They had perused aisles of baskets and crafts, admired stacks of homegrown fruits and vegetables, and tasted jewel-toned jams and jellies while Gideon pointed at kittens and puppies and gnawed on a bright red licorice whip that rivaled him for height. Rumple had even presented her with a shining crimson rose, its stem still dripping with dew.

“Is this a real bloom, or a person in disguise?” she’d teased, eyes glittering with amusement. The past was truly behind them, and on a beautiful, sunny day with the two people she loved most in the world at her side, Belle could even reflect on Gaston without guilt.

She smiled at the flushed face and glazed eyes of their two-year-old slung over Rumple’s back. Their boy had been a trooper during the trip, toddling around farms, pointing at the sleek, Amish buggies drawn by horses, and trying new foods from sticky, molasses-laced Shoofly Pie to orange-flavored milk, but even the energetic, affable toddler had reached his limit. Gideon had long since grown bored with the maze and had given up on begging his parents to chase him through the thick rows of corn. “Up Dada, up!” he had insisted, and promptly snuggled against Rumple’s back and popped his thumb into his mouth.

Gideon rubbed chubby fists over his eyes, fighting the pull of sleep, and Belle ran a comforting hand over his chestnut curls, urging him to succumb to exhaustion. At last he closed his eyes, his long thick lashes forming crescents against his flushed cheeks. “Someone’s asleep,” she said quietly.

“What an excellent idea. Aren’t you tired yet?” Rumple prodded.

“Another half hour,” Belle murmured. She _was_ tired, but she didn’t want to admit it to Rumple, who never seemed to run short on energy. She eyed her husband with rueful admiration. He carried Gideon like he weighed nothing, strolling through the maze without a care. A wave of envy coursed through her; the man hadn't even broken a sweat. Meanwhile, after a long day of sightseeing and keeping pace with Gideon, Belle's feet ached. Soaking in a bathtub and sinking into the king size feather bed with her husband sounded like heaven, but sleep could wait. It was Labor Day weekend and the last afternoon of their trip before they began the long drive back to Storybrooke, and she wanted to savor every moment before summer drifted away.

She’d fallen in love with Lancaster County; the clean, crisp smells of horses and hay and kettle corn filled the air, reminding her of an endless carnival. Gorgeous displays of black-eyed Susans dotted the countryside and a few elm trees had begun to switch colors, heralding the arrival of fall. The Plain people, with their modest dress and _kapps_ and brimmed hats and simple ways fascinated her, and she vowed to add a section on the Amish to the Storybrooke Library as soon as they were home.

As they continued through the maze, the cheers and chatter of other people became muted, and the high rows of corn prevented them from seeing anyone else. With Gideon fast asleep, for the first time since she and Rumple had lived together at the Dark Castle, it felt like they were the only two people in the world and she was loving every moment. Yes, she could get used to this peacefulness.

“We could head over to that used bookstore we saw on the way here,” Rumple coaxed. “Thousands of titles, it promised.”

Belle hesitated—books were her greatest weakness—but stubbornness won out.

“Nice try.” She shook her head and when they came to another dead end, turned to the right. “Let’s finish the maze, please? It will give us a sense of accomplishment.”

“We have a giant beanstalk crop back home,” Rumple pointed out with a cheeky grin. “If it’s accomplishment you desire, I’m sure the Princeling’s dwarf team would carve a path through it so you could get lost every day.”

“Aha! You _do_ miss Storybrooke.” Belle grinned in triumph. “I knew it! Two weeks away from home is too long for you.”

He harrumphed. “I do not miss that backwater hamlet one bit.”

“At least people drive cars there,” she said, laughing at his stricken expression.

Rumple thought about the Amish buggies and smirked as they rounded another corner in the interminable maze. Since spying the plain black contraptions, precocious Gideon had taken to calling their Cadillac a buggy and wanted to know why it wasn’t pulled by a horse. “We have a car here.”

“There’s electricity back home, too,” Belle said with a sly smile. “Think you could give it up?”

“The bed and breakfast where we’re staying has electricity,” he countered. “Otherwise, I hear no noise, no congestion off the main drag, no telephones ringing, and most of all, no Charmings banging on my shop door for help. There is one problem though. The names of these towns. Blue Ball? Intercourse? And I thought Storybrooke was ridiculous.”

Belle snickered; the Amish did have a curious taste for double entendre.

“You seem very at home here in the country,” Belle considered, admiring his loose blue jeans, half-buttoned blue linen shirt, and sneakers. Pleased he shared her love of Lancaster County’s quiet, rolling hills, she smiled at the memory of a barn cat winding its way through Rumple’s legs and rubbing against his ankle this morning on the porch at the inn. He’d gathered twice as many eggs as she had in the chicken coop and filled pails of frothy, creamy milk faster than any of her father’s servants who had worked in the barns in Avonlea.

Then again, he was accustomed to this.

Hundreds of years earlier, before he’d become the Dark One, her husband had lived a life not dissimilar to the Amish. He’d kept a simple home and labored in hard, honest work, spinning wool in exchange for food and supplies. She felt a pang of guilt and wondered if he missed being a spinner. She knew he didn’t miss the powerlessness, but perhaps he missed his craft? In the two years since Gideon had been born, they’d had one wistful conversation about starting over in the Enchanted Forest, but nothing had ever come of it.

“When we go home, Rumple, you should start spinning again,” she suggested. “You’re so talented.”

“I’ve been meaning to try, but with Gideon we’re so busy.” Rumple dipped his head, his eyes clouding and his brow furrowed. “Do you think you would have liked me as a simple sheep farmer and spinner, Belle?” he asked, giving voice to her thoughts. “If I hadn’t been…”

She laid a seductive hand on his chest, fingers mapping the outline of one pectoral muscle. “The most powerful sorcerer in all the realms?” she whispered.

 “Yes.” He made a choking noise as she tweaked a nipple. When Belle touched him, he felt anything but powerful. “If you don’t stop that, you’re going to find yourself on your back in the dirt, my lady,” he threatened, inhaling a sharp breath as her hands drifted over his ribcage.

It wasn’t the life of a spinner he missed; rather, it was solitude he craved. The only reason he liked vacations at all was for Belle’s sake; she wanted to see the world, and he longed to show it to her. Deep down, he wished for their drafty old castle in the snowy mountains, just he and Belle and Gideon, plus any other children the gods saw fit to bless them with. He would spin in the great hall and she would read to their babies. His happy vision darkened—perhaps Belle’s memories of their life in the Dark Castle weren’t as fond for her as they were for him.

At his back, Gideon gave another sleepy sigh and snuggled closer.

As for the maze, he was more than ready to be done with it. “Let’s go this way.” Rumple crooked a finger, eager to get to the end before nightfall. He grimaced at Belle’s towering red sandals, the only ridiculous part of her otherwise sensible shorts and t-shirt. “Your feet must ache in those shoes.”

“Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “These heels are two inches shorter than what I usually wear.”

“Turn here.” Rumple cupped her elbow and steered her around another corner.

Belle dug in her heels around the next bend. “Are you using magic to rush to the finish?”

He glanced at the family passing on their right. Freckle-faced twins around Henry’s age gave him a strange look, then pummeled each other and raced by. “Magic doesn’t work here,” he reminded her through gritted teeth when the kids disappeared around the next curve.

“You are, aren’t you?” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Rumple, it’s only a corn maze.”

“Exactly.” He nodded at the unused map still clutched in her hand, dismayed and slightly hurt that she didn’t believe him. He tapped a stalk of corn. “This is supposed to be fun. So why is it so important we do it your way?”

Her face fell. “I never thought of it like that.”

Alarm pricked at him. Something was wrong, and it had nothing to do with the ridiculous corn. “Belle, what is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “It’s silly. I’m sorry for being bossy. We can go now.”

“It’s obvious something is troubling you, sweetheart.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. “We’re so much better at sharing how we feel now. Worlds away from where we used to be. I’ll tell you what’s on my mind if you tell me what’s on yours, ok?”

“Deal,” she said with a shaky smile.

He nodded in encouragement and waited for her to speak.

“It’s just…you don’t need me, Rumple. You never have…” Her voice was small and weary and his heart clenched in his chest. “You need hardly any sleep, and between you and Gideon I feel like I barely keep up, like you’re always stopping and slowing down for my sake. I guess I wanted to prove I could outlast even you on the final day of our trip and get us through the maze without any help.” Her sigh sounded like defeat.  “See? You’re smiling. I told you it was stupid. Now what was it you wanted to say?”

He couldn’t stop the grin plastered across his face if he tried. “I’m exhausted. Our son is exhausted. May we please quit for the day?”

“Really?!” she squealed, clapping her hands.

She sounded so happy he was dead on his feet that he laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her into his arms in the middle of the maze. People scooted around them, giving them questioning stares and rolling their eyes, but he couldn’t have cared less. “I _do_ need you. I need you every single day of my life.”

“Me too.” Moisture gathered in her sapphire eyes. “And Rumple—spinner, Dark One, or pawnbroker, I would have loved you no matter who you were or who you choose to be. I always will.”

“See, that’s why I need you,” he said, wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.  

“Is that all you need?” she asked, pressing her cheek to his chest.

“Well, no.” He paused. “I also need another one of those apple dumplings from the market before we leave town.”

She laughed and raised a white flag, signaling for a guide to help them out of the maze. “I think that can be arranged.”

###

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff with a bit of a (corny) lesson. Hope you liked. Comments are welcome.


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